4 June 2024

Was feeling a bit existential, and waxed a bit poetic about the meaning of my own life. This is very religious in nature, short as it is so be warned.

Who am I?

A sinner, a failure, a dropout?

Once, perhaps, and fair enough,

E’en now I have my struggles.

But…

Who am I?

A writer, a dreamer, a poet?

So I am, but only thus?

Nay, such is but skin-deep.

Then…

Who am I?

A son of God

A disciple of Christ

Brother, uncle, nephew, son

Covenanted

Ever forward I strive to tread.

29 May 2024

I was dead tired and needed to write SOMETHING after work. And recently, I’ve been playing a lot of Genshin again, even picked up Arlecchino. She’s been a blast to play, and kind of locked in my second team. So I have an overload team centered around Arlecchino and Raiden, and a freeze team centered around Ayaka, that feel so very different from each other but still play very similarly. It’s strange and fun, and something I thought a lot about randomly, and put the thoughts roughly in a poem.

Arlecchino and Ayaka

The one, imperial, regal, demanding

The other, serene, elegant, demure

Flame and explosions and flurries of motion

Versus the silent stillness of frozen ice

Both naught more than a dream

Shared, not even my own

But fortune favored me greatly

To let ice and fire guide that dreamlike journey

25 May 2024 part 2

I wrote my poem for the week! It’s based on the leader of one of the major antagonistic factions in my campaign. If it runs long enough for him to appear, I would be ecstatic. He is a hodge podge of several different characters that at first, didn’t seem connected, but the more I explored the themes around this character, the more tied together they all seem. Top of the list is Denethor from Lord of the Rings, and Sir Gideon Ofnir the All-Hearing from Elden Ring. (Yes, I’m not using his “official” title, but I find this one more apt, anyway.) Then Taravangian from The Stormlight Chronicles got mixed in a bit, though I doubt my character is anywhere near that composed or capable. Through in a dash of general Bloodborne into the mix, and you get Sir Deneth Rinof the All-Hearing, head of the Oreilles de la Tour (Ears of the Tower), with connections to Great Old Ones and whatnot. His faction focuses a lot on illusions and puppets, at least at first, with more and more eldritch entities showing up as the campaign progresses.

Sir Deneth Rinof

“Know thy place.”

“Hold thy tongue.”

“Speak not above thy station.”

What fool, this king!

Wherefore should I bow to him?

“Heretic.”

Empty words.

What glory would gods grant man?

My soul seeks more

To ascend beyond mere divine.

Deeper truths

Darker secrets

Words to bend them to my will

Both kings and priests

And surely I shall do it

Found at last!

Beyond ken

I draw near that distant star

Madness follows

Eyes inside my screaming mind

All are doomed

I am bound

None can oppose such terror

Bow before it

I will offer it the world

15 May 2024

This poem is loosely based on a prompt I found on Tumblr through Catelyn Winona; a fantastic short story author, by the way. She wrote her own story based on it, and it got me thinking. I always like it when there’s at least one person who can see both sides.

Notes: For the sake of the meter, I considered “Family” to be 3 syllables and “general” to be 2.

“For what didst thou believe I journeyed here?

Whose fault, pray tell, that I am wrenched from home?

The beast is slain; here lies the demon felled.

And yet thou darest ask yet more of me?

My family to never see again,

Instead to aid the ones that plucked me hence?

If asked of thee, thou wouldst then hail me mad!”

The prince enraged, at first did think to duel

But blessed grace, the general intervened.

He bowed his head; “We thank you for your aid.

Please go in peace. I’ll handle matters here.”

The hero gone, the prince at once exclaimed,

“What treach’ry this? Our country could have saved,

Rebuilt, renewed, but now, the relic lost.”

The general raised a brow and waved behind.

“What’s there to see that’s left of palace yon?

How did it fall? What pow’r did that require?

In face of such, could thou a moment stand?

What fool, pray tell, would trade one foe for worse?

What’s more, he spoke the truth; canst thou deny?

Whate’er our wish, in truth we’ve done him ill.

What reason should he yield his hopes to us?”

Like fish on land, the prince gaped at the mouth.

The general clapped his back and turned. “Well, come.

There’s still much work to build our country new.”

10 May 2024 part 2

This is a poem I wrote introducing one of the major antagonistic factions in my D&D campaign. Kind of a blend of Greed and Gluttony, with ties to both vampires and the fae and faewild shenanigans, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Quite macabre, to be honest, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

Welcome! Welcome!

Come, dance the night away!

Won’t you join our Revel?

Throw all your cares away!

Mind not the smell of rot

Nor dear guests, now deceased

Just listen to my music

And partake our glorious Feast

With luck, you may be chosen

To spread our Feast abroad

To bring folk to our Revel

And sip their precious blood

3 May 2024 part 2

This is objectively not that great. Not as bad as I first thought, but not great. And perhaps too heavy-handed?

Do I fear the Lord?

Has my heart been changed?

With the knowledge of my soul,

Do I rely on Him?

I have felt this before,

That joy repentance brings.

Do I still live like that?
Can I feel Him now?

We are beggars, all;

But through Him we’re set free.

O Lord, please keep my soul;

Let me fellow Thee.

17 April 2024

I was quite proud of this one. The mother and love stanzas need work still, I think, but overall I like how it turned out. Especially since every character listed, except (maybe) Elliott, is or becomes a dragon by the end of the series. For context, stanzas 1 and 2 are book 1; 3, 4, and 5 are book 2; and the last is book 3, which has a lot more focus on Arylwen and less on Charles, so that makes sense.

I actually started this by trying to see how few words I could use to “tell” the Majesty story. I wasn’t happy with that, and wound up here instead.

There stands a boy

Trembling in fear at the feet of the Pirate’s throne

Yet does not yield

And the Pirate hails him, King

There stands a boy

Looking into the face of an old, tired Mountain

And offers hope

And the Mountain hails him, King

There kneels a youth

His surrogate Mother fading fast

He, helpless, weeps

And the Mother hails him, King

There kneels a youth

A ring offered to the Love of his life

Promise ensured

And his Love hails him, King

There stands a man

Confronting she who has conquered the world

At last, triumph

And the Conqueror hails him, King

There stands a man

Betrayed by one who was once his dearest Friend

Together in death

Only then does the Friend hail him, King

5 April 2024

This is quiet a long one; there is a surprisingly large amount to cover with this section of my poem-outline. It’s fun, though!

Temper thy expectations,

Dearest friend of mine.

We know not her wishes

Nor what she may’ve endured.

Wise though thy words,

I cannot my heart restrain.

E’en to see her mor than I once hoped

Look; anon and we arrive.

My queen, all hail. Safe trip, I pray?

Though, alas, it was not so for us.

The prince’s sight is… changed, to say

And the princess will not leave her  room.

Changed, you say?

Did he fall to fairy’s curse?

‘Tis best if I tend to him,

While you thy daughter greet.

Agreed. Then I shall go.

A knock, rejection, but–

I am neither prince nor Phillip.

May I enter?

Panic, shock

Already she stands at my door!?

Long have I longed and dreaded this meeting

But… A smidge of courage, I open the door.

I… I am sorry I’m not more

Not a princess, not bold, not brave

Just… me.

I… I never even tried to leave.

Her words like chimes blow past

None settle. Instead,

She is in my arms, at last.

And there we stay, in silence.

~~~~~

The prince before me, changed indeed.

Mortals were not meant for fairy sight

Only one other I know of, but such is luck

That one is me, and I can guide you.

Well enough, and thank thee, truly.

But what e’en is the point?

All is worthless, ash and dust.

All… all that is… ‘cept thee?

Indeed, even when Death takes me

Never shall I age or rot.

But that is of no import.

Come, there is much work to do.

~~~~~

A wond’rous, glorious week

‘Tis not so bad a way to go

Though regrets remain, I will not lament

My time is up, it seems

The princess collapsed,

And fades so fast!

O great Queen of sorceries,

Is there aught thou canst do?

There is. Indeed, long planned.

But I do not like it.

My friend, my queen, dearest Hannah,

Are you sure this is thy wish?

Never have I been more sure.

Aurora has not even had

An honest chance to live.

Can I, as mother,

Prize my life above my child’s?

Mother, what meanest thou?

What plan have you concocted?

A quiet dread fills my chest

Surely, you cannot mean…?

Dearest Isaac, know I love you,

And I’m proud of who you are.

Whate’er happens, we’ll watch o’er you.

Maleficent, ‘tis time.

Ne’er have I regretted a promise more

And decades since last I shed a tear

Yet I will respect thy wish

Breath for breath, and life for life.

W-what?

I am… awake?

Is this Heaven?

But no, there is the prince, and Phillip, and…

No.

No no no.

Please tell me she did not!

What worth have I, a timid girl,

That a queen would yield her life for me?!

27 March 2024 part 1

The subject matter and the inspiration are both pretty self-explanatory, I think. The first line of the second stanza is actually from a verse in the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi chapter 4. Faith and writing are intimately connected for me for some reason; it’s like my faith gives me extra motivation to write, or something. It’s hard to explain, and perhaps a bit unusual, but it is what it is.

Writer’s Block

Emptiness

Void

Dribbles of ideas at the edges of my brain

Who can spin tales in such a state?

“Nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.”

These words come to mind

Just put pen to paper

What gets written matters little

‘Tis more important to simply write.

24 February 2024

Each moment is nothing more than a mirage

Ephemeral

Naught but a breath of time

And yet…

Moments are the threads from which eternity is woven

Dreams are like distant stars in the night sky

Elusive

Always, it seems, just out of reach

And yet…

Will we ever move forward if we do not chase them?

13 February 2024 part 2

I am actually pretty proud of this one. It’s not a sonnet or anything like that (no rhyming and the stanzas aren’t long enough), but I did play with iambic pentameter; it seemed to fit the subject material. Basically, this is my Valentine’s post. Happy Valentine’s day! (Even if we’re two and a half months past by the time I post this.)

The inspirations might surprise you, though. I was listening to music at work, and “Phoenix” by Belle Sisoski and “Legends Never Die” by Against The Current played back to back, and got me thinking about phoenixes and things. There’s also the line about the “scars collected all their lives”. So I wondered; if there were a phoenix who could and did take human form, and they got married, how would that work? Hence this.

The Phoenix’ Husband

Howe’er can one describe a goddess’ grace?

With hair like sunset o’er the mountain pass

And eyes and smile more bright than evening star

Nor these alone; her form with blade in hand

More glorious and deadly than the lion

Yet gentle laughter always at her lips

Once met, five years spent I in courting her

Together walked through rain and snow and shine

I knew this hope but folly, yet kept on

At last she answered; joy forevermore!

We wed within the town we next arrived

And seemed to me eternity ahead

Alas, ‘twas not to be. How cruel is fate!

Before three years had passed, a bandit’s shaft

Near pierced my heart, and may as well have done,

For she did bear it in my place and died

The fight, though won, my heart did turn to ash

And darkness clouded soul and sight a time.

But then, within the ashes of my love,

A child, a girl, her hair alike aflame

Her smile did soothe my soul. I took her in

And raised her with me on the road abroad

Some say a child should not like this be raised

But who am I to clip the phoenix’ wings?

6 February 2024

Hello! ‘Tis Phillip,

Though now much at a loss.

Two wayward children follow at my heels

Who, though royalty, need constant minding

Rooms we require to stay the night

Dear princess, can thou tend to that?

I’ll watch the prince and the horses

And a pigeon send to our queen

M-me?

In there?

No task could be more terrifying!

Ah… he left ere I spoke.

I yet lack the courage to decline…

One step by step,

To the dreaded counter I tread

T-, two rooms for us, please?

Eh? What meanest thou, where is my coin?

None on my person, and even had I,

Which coin is worth what?

At such a loss; what should I do?

E’en this simple thing goes awry…

Phillip, what cruelty is this?

The treasure, though found, is but dross

My eyes now see nothing but bones

And she, for sure, no princess can be

Spoke she ever otherwise?

Oft did they warn thee, thy mother and her friend,

Of the dangers of magic, now felt.

Is it a shock they spoke true?

Still, I’ll help where I can.

Already the pigeon alights

Both queens ere long should arrive

Inside, what a mess,

Worse than I had supposed.

Dear princess, thy best was enough

But I have aplenty. Good sir, three silver a room?

Embarrassment, regret

Why thought I not to go ask?

What place have I in a world such as this?

Just allow me to hide away here.

22 January 2024

I decided I would try to write a poem a week. I’ve liked the idea of it, written some poems in the past. I haven’t quite lived up to that goal; March was crazy busy with a lot of personal stuff, and I barely wrote anything at all. But I’ve done better than I feared. And I’m quite fond of this one, though I don’t think it matches any specific formula. This particular poem was inspired by a post on the Elsewhere University tumblr I saw, in the item exchange series.

Once, in fair trade,

The greatest of friends of friends did I gain

Found in a glass

Silver-back, hand wide,

Thus neither of us would pass through

Days we spun tales,

Glories and mundanities both

And I counted dear

The quiet times passed

Spent with my reflection and I

Alas, then dropped

Reflection now shattered to bits

Some cruel, some sharp

Not a one kind

And no way to return them whole

Be wary, dear friend,

Though gladly I’ll sell

This mirror brings its own thorns

21 December 2022

Songs are difficult to write. I’m also not really a fan of how on-the-nose this one is. That’s one thing I appreciated of Shannon Hale’s Book of a Thousand Days; the magic wasn’t from the words, but more how they made someone feel, if I understand it right. Still, this works well enough for a first draft.

It was some time later when, from the alley where she’d tucked herself away, Naomi heard a song. It was distant, at first, but seemed to be getting closer; a jaunty tune that invited the listener to jump up and join the dance. Not that Naomi felt like dancing just then.

Soon, it had gotten close enough she could recognize Pietr’s voice, and then the words he was singing:

“Ah, rout-tout, diddly di,

Rout-tout, do.

In for a penny, in for a pound,

Come, ye rats, and gather ‘round.

There’s many a place to rest your head,

But none here in this town.

A plate full of bread, a bowl full of cheese

Come eat with us, whate’er ye please…”

Naomi struggled to pin down why, but something about the song unnerved her.

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